


break me down (and build me up)

by Chocchi



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Blood and Injury, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Stabbing, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22917949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocchi/pseuds/Chocchi
Summary: Meet up with me in the woods to the south of Aurnion,Flynn’s message said.There could be a new Giganto monster,he said.If there isn’t, we can send my rookies home and spar, just you and me. When do we ever get the chance to spar without an audience anymore?Well, Yuri’s been wandering the damn woods for ages, and still no sign of Flynn or his rookies. It’s annoying, but more importantly, it’s unnerving.
Relationships: Yuri Lowell/Flynn Scifo
Comments: 16
Kudos: 151





	break me down (and build me up)

**Author's Note:**

> LIKE, THERE'S A LOT OF BLOOD, GUYS, I DIDN'T JUST THROW THAT TAG IN FOR FUNSIES  
> as always, i appreciate whatever feedback you can throw my way :3c

_Meet up with me in the woods to the south of Aurnion_ , Flynn’s message said. _There could be a new Giganto monster,_ he said. _If there isn’t, we can send my rookies home and spar, just you and me. When do we ever get the chance to spar without an audience anymore?_

Well, Yuri’s been wandering the damn woods for ages, and still no sign of Flynn _or_ his rookies. It’s annoying, but more importantly, it’s unnerving. The Knights aren’t kitted out for stealth. Yuri should have heard them from a mile off by now. Even Repede, loping along at Yuri’s side, has only been able to give the air the occasional confused sniff.

“Why do I keep doing favors for this dumbass?” Yuri asks Repede. Repede yawns. “Ugh.”

He stomps through the next half-mile of foliage before Repede’s easy trot comes to an abrupt halt and Yuri almost trips over him. Repede sniffs the air wildly, ears swiveling upright as his hackles rise.

“What?” Yuri asks, warily, shifting his grip on the cord of his sheath. “What’s there, bud?”

Repede growls and darts off into the brush. Yuri groans and starts after him. He’s not awful at following a trail, but Repede doesn’t leave much to work with except the occasional pawprint and rustling leaves. He makes it about five minutes before he has to yell, “REPEDE!”

Distant rustling. Then, a hoarse and muffled yell—“YURI?”

“FLYNN?” Yuri starts running again. “Where are you?!”

Repede pops back out of the undergrowth. He whimpers at Yuri, circling his legs to herd him in the direction the yell came from.

“I’m here!”

“Where’s h—“ Yuri breaks through a line of trees, into a clearing. He makes three observations in quick succession.

The first: Flynn is on the ground.

The second: the rookie Knights are nowhere to be seen.

The third: there is a knife sticking out of Flynn’s midsection, and his lower body is drenched in his own blood.

“Oh, fuck,” Yuri hears himself say, as though from a distance. He loses track of his own body for a moment. One second he’s still at the edge of the trees, and the next he’s sinking to his knees next to Flynn, right down into the bloody earth. “Oh, shit, Flynn.”

“Hey there,” Flynn manages, with a weak, wobbly smile. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Fucking—“ Yuri lifts his hands, shakily, but he doesn’t know what to do with them. It’s not a Knight’s knife; it’s huge and ornate and ominous looking, like something from a noble’s estate that would be sold as cursed or haunted. Repede sticks his nose under Yuri’s arm, whimpering again, before he turns and sprints back into the woods. _North_ , Yuri thinks. Going to go find help. Good boy. “What _happened_?”

“I suppose the rookies weren’t being truthful when they told me they’d seen a huge beast in the forest,” Flynn says. He takes a deep, wheezing breath, and his face contorts with pain. “Not really how I expected my first assassination attempt to go.”

“Don’t joke about this,” Yuri hisses, which is easily one of the most hypocritical things he’s ever said. He ends up with one hand knotted into the fabric of Flynn’s tunic next to the wound, watching Flynn’s face for an adverse reaction. It’s kind of a fool’s errand. He’s already in obvious, incredible pain. “What—what can I do?”

“...Yuri...”

“What can I do?” Yuri repeats, desperately. His heart pounds in his chest. Flynn’s blood is hot and slick under his hands, and oh, gods, there’s so much of it. There’s so much blood. Yuri isn’t a squeamish person, has never had the option to be, but this is—

“Just stay with me? Please.”

Oh, no. No. Why did he have to phrase it like that? Like—like he thinks he won’t—

“There has to be something else.”

“If we try to do anything with the knife, I’m going to lose a lot of blood.”

“You’re already losing a lot of blood.”

“Don’t cry,” Flynn says, softly, reaching up to touch Yuri’s cheek. His fingers are sticky with his own blood. “Yuri, don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying,” Yuri grits out, even though it’s objectively untrue. When did he start crying? He’s barely been here a minute. Surely he can’t be melting down already. He’ll come up with a plan any second now, if he can just calm the fuck down. “We need to have your eyes checked when we get you back in town.”

“Yuri...”

“We’re getting you back to town,” Yuri repeats. His eyes burn. Flynn’s hand falls away from his face again. “We are. I’m not—I’m not leaving you here. I won’t.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Flynn says, voice pitched low and soothing, and how the fuck is he the one comforting Yuri right now? Yuri knows exactly how much it hurts to have a knife stuck in you like that. “I know. But—“

“Shut up,” Yuri says, desperately. His heart pulses like a drum-beat, loud and oppressive and so hard it feels like it’s making his head ache. He casts around for any cloth he can use to apply pressure. There’s Flynn’s stupid capelet, but the fabric was already slick before it was blood-soaked. Yuri doesn’t want to be fumbling to get a grip every few seconds. They aren’t getting anything else on Flynn’s upper body off any time soon—that’s out. Yuri’s clothes, then. He haphazardly strips off the upper layer of his tunic.

“It’s okay, Yuri.”

“Yes,” Yuri snaps, aggressively wadding the fabric up into a makeshift pad. “It will be.”

“Just take a deep—“

Where is Yuri’s sword? He dropped it on his way into the clearing in a panic. Fuck. Well, he’s not getting up to go find it now. Flynn’s will have to do. Might even be better, really. Doesn’t it have an affinity for light magic?

He wraps his free hand around the hilt of the knife. Flynn’s breath catches.

“Yuri, please, no.”

“There’s no time,” Yuri says, and it tastes bitter and sour and awful in his mouth. There _is_ no time. Yuri does not have room to fuck this up. He doesn’t even want to know how long Flynn has already been laying here, injured and alone. “We can’t—there’s no way healers are going to get here in time.”

If there’s even anyone coming. If anyone even knows to come yet. Repede can only run so fast.

“I know,” Flynn says, so, so softly.

“So I have to,” Yuri says—no. He begs. _Please, Flynn. Please let him do this._ Let him at least try.

“It’s okay,” Flynn says, again, more coaxingly. “This is already—when I first collapsed, I didn’t even think I would get to see you again. But you’re here, and that’s more than—“

Yuri’s vision blurs with tears. “Shut up. You’re not dying here.”

“Yuri—“

“Don’t be so selfish,” Yuri says, but he’s up to both elbows in Flynn’s blood, and Flynn already looks so pale, and so tired. He gives so much of himself, always pushes forward, and here at the last gasp Yuri won’t let him stop. Flynn is not the one who is selfish here. Yuri knows that. Yuri has always known that. “You think you just get to leave me with all the work?”

Flynn dredges up a smile from somewhere, somehow. “I am sorry about that.”

“You should be,” Yuri says. If his voice shakes, that’s between him and Flynn. He can’t spare the energy to stop it. If he does this, even if he does everything right, miraculously, the shock alone... no. He needs a distraction. Think, Yuri, think. What could be startling enough for Flynn to forget Yuri’s pulling a goddamn knife out of him?

...Well. As long as he’s already being selfish.

“Flynn—“

“Yuri?”

“—Forgive me.”

He pushes forward and kisses Flynn full on the mouth.

Flynn gasps against his mouth—Yuri got the surprise part down, at least, that’s a start— and Yuri mumbles _sorry_ right as he yanks the knife out. Flynn cries out, full-throated and anguished, as the blood rushes out alongside it. Yuri tosses the knife aside without looking, fumbling for Flynn’s sword with one hand and to apply pressure with the other. Flynn presses into him, frantic, keeping their mouths sealed together as Yuri gets a solid grip on the hilt of Flynn’s sword. He plunges the sword into the rocky earth next to Flynn’s hip with a snarl of—

“Guardian field!”

And golden light blossoms around them.

“Oh, fuck,” Flynn wheezes, one hand scrambling to press over Yuri’s where it holds pressure on the wound. “Oh—“

_Please let that mean it’s doing something helpful_ , Yuri thinks, wildly. Please, if the universe never gives him any other victory, if Yuri dies tomorrow—please let this, at least—

The light starts to fade, and he draws the sword back out of the ground just enough to plunge it back in.

“Guardian field!”

Flynn whines, loud and sobbing against his lips. Yuri pushes into the pressure of his hand, trying not to look down at the splatter of scarlet between them. As the light dies down again, he stabs the sword back into the loam again—and again—and again, and again, and—

Flynn abruptly shudders and falls back, head limp on his neck. Yuri cranes forward, heart in his throat. “Flynn!”

“Ow,” Flynn mumbles. “ _Ow._ “

Oh, gods. He’s not dead, at least. Yuri looks down, at long last, and has to stop himself from retching. It’s just—red, all red, staining their pants and their skin and the ground below, soaking all the way through the cloth Yuri is holding to the wound. Red and wet and sticky. He shifts his weight enough to slowly, unsteadily pull his hand back.

The wound is gone.

It’s just an angry pink scar, smeared with blood. Yuri feels himself start to shake, first in his hands and then in his core, until he tips forward and is forced to rest his forehead against Flynn’s chest.

“Say something,” he says, hoarsely. Flynn’s breath is short and shallow in his chest. “Anything. Please, just—“

“I’m here,” Flynn whispers. A hand comes up to thread through the hair at the back of Yuri’s neck, even shakier than his own. He’s probably getting blood in Yuri’s hair. “I’m—I’m here. It worked.”

Yuri’s vision blurs out again. The hot tears track down his face, mixing with the tacky blood Flynn left there earlier. He’s shaking so hard he starts to pull away, afraid he might hurt Flynn, who is already so, so vulnerable—but Flynn holds him there, against his body, where Flynn’s heart thumps under his ear with every beat.

“Fuck,” Yuri says. It sounds shredded coming out of his throat. “Fuck.”

Flynn laughs, a tiny, wheezing huff of breath. “Yeah.”

Yuri still has a death grip on the hilt of Flynn’s sword. Flynn’s fingers tangle with his, kitten-weak, and nudge them away. Yuri lets himself be removed, the hand falling to bury itself in the bloody hem of Flynn’s tunic.

“I’m sorry,” he says, hollowly. Gods, the noises Flynn made— “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I—“

Flynn laughs again, a little stronger this time, almost incredulously. “You’re sorry?”

“I—I know that’s not—worth anything, but I—“ Yuri tries to bite back a sob, but it just comes out strangled and odd. “I couldn’t—“

“Shh,” Flynn says. He pets at the back of Yuri’s neck. His second hand steadies Yuri by the shoulder. “Shh, shh. Hey. You—Yuri. Shh. Don’t cry. You saved my life, what are—what are you sorry for?”

“You—“ Yuri curls closer, hiding his face against one of the few corners of Flynn’s tunic that isn’t completely covered in blood. “You were in so much pain, and I—“

“Well, I can’t say I _enjoyed_ it, sure,” Flynn says, agreeably, surprising Yuri in a hacked-out bark of laughter. “There we go. Come on. Shh. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“You’ve lost half your blood, you’re not okay at all.”

“But I will be. And you did that.”

Flynn will live.

“I’m sorry,” Yuri says again, and when Flynn makes a disapproving noise, he forces himself to finish, “For kissing you.”

Flynn stills. “You’re sorry for that?”

“I just—“ Yuri scrambles to unravel the mindset he’d had not five minutes ago, when Flynn’s blood had still been actively pouring out over his fingers. “Needed you to be—distracted. And I didn’t have much to work with, but I thought, it didn’t matter if you liked it, as long as—but it was still... I’m. I’m sorry.”

“You kissed me to distract me,” Flynn says, flatly.

“I know if it hadn’t worked it would have been kind of a shitty way to spend your last breaths,” Yuri mutters. The consequences of his actions are starting to close in on him, in a sickening rush. It’s worth it, though. Flynn is alive. That’s worth almost anything. Even if he’ll never speak to Yuri again.

“Shitty?” Flynn sighs. His fingers start to stroke through Yuri’s hair again. “I think we’re having different conversations.”

“We are?”

“If my choices were dying while kissing you or just dying... you think the first one sounds worse?”

“I—“ _didn’t structure my brain for this version of the argument_ — “Yeah? I guess? Not any better, at least.”

“Okay,” Flynn says. He sounds exasperated. Yuri doesn’t know where he found the energy for exasperation. Yuri’s not even the one who got stabbed, and he barely has the energy for confusion. “For a minute there I thought you were saying you had knowingly weaponized the fact that I’m in love with you to distract me.”

Oh, that’s what energy feels like. A surge of adrenaline that almost makes him headbutt Flynn in the underside of the jaw when he jolts in place. “You’re in WH—“

“But now I can see you’re just a dumbass who used kissing to distract me for totally unrelated reasons.”

“You’re in _love with me?_ “ Yuri says, much more loudly and higher-pitched than he intended or expected. He wishes he hadn’t jerked out of Flynn’s grip to look him in the face, because now he has to watch Flynn lift his eyebrows judgementally and feel himself go completely flushed. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

Flynn opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, there’s a distant shout in the woods. Yuri whips around, staring in the direction the sound came from. A beat later, it comes again, more clearly.

“Yuri!”

“Commandant!”

“Flynn! Yuri! Are you there? Hello?”

“Sir, please respond!”

“Took them long enough,” Flynn says. He goes limp in Yuri’s hold, again, letting Yuri and the ground take his weight. When Yuri glances back to check on him, he smiles, wryly, eyes closing. “We’ll talk more in Aurnion, I suppose.”

“Flynn—“

“YURI LOWELLL!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Flynn shudders with silent laughter as Yuri turns to yell, “WE’RE HERE! OVER HERE!”

“Yuri!”

It takes a bit more shouting for the search party to triangulate their location. When they finally stumble into Yuri’s view, Brave Vesperia bursts through the line of the trees first. Estelle sprints forward and drops down next to them with no hesitation, heedless of the blood that immediately gets all over her. Yuri tries to help her as much as he can but soon enough finds himself physically dragged away by Karol and Judy. Healers from the Knights come onto the scene next. Yuri can feel himself bristle. It takes five minutes of Karol coaxing him that _Rita and Estelle are here, they won’t let anything happen to Flynn, it’s okay,_ before Yuri stops digging in his heels enough that he can be removed from the clearing.

It’s all a bit of a blur after that. Somehow they get back to Aurnion; somehow Yuri and Flynn cross the gates at the same time, despite the fact that Yuri could have sworn Karol and Judy have been trying to get him to come ahead of the pack with them for the last hour. Of course he’s been resisting, but he feels weak and wrung-out. His head aches and throbs, and his torso is one big knot of exhaustion and nausea. Surely he can’t be giving them _that_ much trouble?

When he finally staggers into the guild’s Aurnion headquarters, Raven—who had stayed behind to keep an eye on the home base—is ready to greet them with a grin. It slides away after one look at Yuri. He grabs Yuri by the arm and hauls him down the hallway to the bathroom. Yuri is on his knees in front of the toilet in seconds.

“Sorry,” Yuri splutters, when he stops heaving his guts up for long enough to speak. In the corner of his vision, Raven shrugs. He’s perched on the edge of the bathtub, within arm’s reach.

“It happens.”

Yuri has an incredulous look with Raven’s name on it, but he’s too busy puking again to deliver it. In between bouts of retching, Raven pulls Yuri’s hair back for him in a sloppy ponytail at the base of his neck.

“Honestly, for as much of a lightweight as you are, what impresses me is that this is just now happening for the first time and it has nothing to do with alcohol.”

“Ha ha,” Yuri coughs.

“Spirits forbid your frail mortal body can only keep up with your bullshit for so long. Some of us have heart conditions, y’know.”

“Some of us have—“ _Cough._ “—Have young, healthy bodies with no excuse for this.”

“Yes,” Raven says, mildly. “No excuse at all. Overwork and sleep deprivation? Absolutely nothing. I’m Yuri Lowell, and I’m fucking invincible.”

Yuri laughs, a little hysterically, despite himself.

“What happened, anyway? You fucked off into the woods, and the next thing any of us knew your pup was back without you howling his little head off. The Knights were throwing some kinda fit about Flynn, too. A monster got him or something?”

“A monster?” Yuri repeats. The retching has stopped, at least for the moment, and he takes the chance to spit voluntarily. “No, he got—he got stabbed. Said it was the rookies he went out with. I found him after the fact.”

Raven whistles, low and impressed. He ruffles Yuri’s hair. “Ah, so throw emotional trauma in with the overwork and sleep deprivation.”

“...Flynn’s the one who got stabbed, not me.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you handled it just great, finding your bosom buddy wounded to the point that you look like _that_.”

Yuri glances down at himself. Ah. That’s right. He’s still covered in Flynn’s blood.

“I know we like to have fun around here,” Raven says. “But I gotta ask, for realsies. You okay, kid?”

_Yes_ , Yuri thinks. _I’m fine. Flynn’s the one who got hurt. I’m_ fine _. Nothing happened to me. I have no right to feel like this. I’m—_

“No.”

“Ah, shit,” Raven says. “I wasn’t really expecting you to be honest. You wanna talk about it?”

_No, it’s Flynn’s business and Yuri should wait to discuss it with him in private, and—_

“Flynn tried to get me to let him die in peace,” Yuri says, and has to swallow hard against the instinctive urge to vomit again when he thinks about it. Maybe some of the pressure will ease off if he just says it out loud, even if he doesn’t really want to talk about it. “So I—I kissed him to distract him while I pulled out the knife anyway, and now he’s alive and I have to deal with that.”

Raven stares down at him for a moment, both eyebrows raised. Yuri stares back, too exhausted to care about how pathetic the whole situation is. He feels sticky with sweat, his mouth tastes vile, and he can’t shake off the phantom gush of Flynn’s blood over his fingers.

“I think what you need,” Raven finally says, “Is some nice, warm soup, a hot bath, and for everyone to leave you alone until you can talk to our favorite Commandant again.”

All of the tension slumps out of Yuri, along with the last dregs of his energy. He has to stop himself from resting his face against the toilet.

“That sounds good,” he mumbles. Raven pats his nearest shoulder and reaches over to check the security of his ponytail situation. Yuri hasn’t had anyone but Flynn make sure his hair is pulled back while he pukes since he was a little kid. “I’ll make some—“

“You aren’t making anything,” Raven says. He rises from the edge of the bathtub and steps over Yuri’s wayward limbs. “Judy will get some chicken broth going.”

“N—no, I can—“

“All you’re going to do is start the hot water,” Raven says. “I’ll grab you a change of clothes. Come on, kid. Take it easy for a second.”

It would be easier to argue with that if Yuri’s clothes weren’t stiff with a crust of blood. He hunches his shoulders and nods in acceptance.

The shower is disgusting. Yuri takes a moment to wash his mouth first, and he always hates trying to scrub out the taste of vomit. After that, he stands under the hot spray of water and gets wet enough to scrub the blood away, starting at the crown of his head and working his way down. Blood is matted into his hair and stuck under his fingernails. The water pools at his feet with a pink tinge. Yuri tries not to think about cleaning the tile later. When the water running off his body stays clear, and he doesn’t feel so nauseatingly overwhelmed by the smell of copper, he grabs the shampoo and switches over to his usual bath protocol.

The soaps Karol buys for the guild bath are gentle and floral. The smell slowly overtakes the bathroom. Yuri relaxes, little by little, in the cover of the sweetly-scented steam. At some point, on the other side of the bath curtain, Yuri can hear Raven come in. He departs again after a brief rustle of fabric. When Yuri finally turns off the water and wraps himself in a towel, he exits to find the tank top and sweatpants he usually saves for cleaning day. His bloody day-to-day clothes are nowhere to be found.

He gets dressed and towels off his hair. The towel stays slung around his shoulders to catch the drips as he yanks a comb through it. By the time he’s done, his stomach is growling at the faint whiff of soup coming through the door, so he follows it back out to the kitchen.

“You’re the best,” Yuri tells Judy, when she wordlessly pours him a bowl of broth. She snorts.

“I’ve made much fancier soups and foods for us before, but plain broth gets me ‘the best’?”

“It does right now.”

Yuri takes a long pull of the broth. From a nearby table, Raven says, “Don’t make yourself sick again.”

“’S just soup,” Yuri says, after he swallows.

“You can make yourself sick drinking soup too fast, with the state you’re in.”

“Leave him alone,” Judy says, bless her. “Take some more with you and lie down, okay?”

“Where’s my clothes? I have to wash them first.”

Silence.

“Guys?”

“Sometimes,” Raven says, slowly, like he’s choosing his words carefully, “In guild work, we survive but our clothes do not.”

“Wh—they were still fine! They just needed—“

“No, they weren’t—“

“Just some soap and they’d be—“

“We had Karol take them to a random dumpster in town,” Judy says. “So you couldn’t dig them back out. You’re welcome.”

“I changed my mind about you being the best, asshole.”

“I know. Take your damn soup and go rest.”

He does, fuming silently. Curled up in bed, he drains the rest of the soup, then lays down to doze off the headache starting to set in. Someone will get him if there’s news about Flynn, he’s sure. He hopes.

What feels like hours later, he’s halfway asleep when there’s a gentle, familiar knock on his door. “Yuri?”

Yuri scrambles to sit upright. “Flynn?”

Flynn cracks the door open and sticks his head through. He looks awfully, alarmingly pale, but otherwise much more cheerful than he did earlier. “Hey. Can I—“

“Come in, yes, fuck—“ Yuri tries to kick the blankets away. Flynn is through the doorframe, door closed behind him, and halfway to Yuri’s bedside by the time Yuri swings his legs over the edge of the bed. “The healers let you leave the hospital?”

“I can take bedrest anywhere,” Flynn says. He, too, is dressed down in simple, soft clothes. “They already gave me blood transfusions.”

Yuri frowns up at him. Flynn offers him a hand, palm-up; when Yuri takes it, he can see the thin strip of bandage Flynn must be indicating, wrapped around his forearm. Flynn turns his arm after a moment so that his palm can slide against Yuri’s.

“Let me lie down with you?”

“If you want,” Yuri mumbles, beating down the hope that wells in his chest. Flynn has always been the type to reassure himself with physical contact. Flynn sits next to him on the edge of the bed for long enough to kick off the loose civvy boots he’s wearing, then nudges Yuri back into the middle of the mattress, where he can push him down into the nest of blankets. Yuri allows this, rolling onto his side to face Flynn.

“You smell nice,” Flynn murmurs, appreciatively. He curls around Yuri, arms locking behind his back. Yuri presses his face to Flynn’s throat and a hand over his heart, unable to stop himself with Flynn so close and so affectionate. His pulse is steady. Flynn makes no objections.

“Had to wash up,” Yuri says, not really paying attention to anything he’s saying. Flynn’s pulse keeps going strong under his hand and his cheek. “Prob’ly still smell like the soap.”

“Like fresh growing things,” Flynn says. He noses against Yuri’s hair. “How are you feeling?”

“How am _I_ feeling? You got fucking stabbed.”

“I’m pretty sore,” Flynn admits, easily. “And very lightheaded. The healers said I have to be sure to eat a lot of sugars and proteins for the next few days, and get plenty of rest and fluids. So—here I am.”

“Here you are.” Yuri tries to use the hand on Flynn’s chest to push back a bit. Flynn clutches him in place. “Hey. Let me go grab you a snack.”

“I just had something to nibble. I don’t need anything right this moment.”

“But—“

“Raven said you were sick.”

“That snitch,” Yuri grumbles. Flynn’s grip tightens.

“It’s true, then?”

“I’m fine,” Yuri lies. He stops trying to squirm out of Flynn’s grasp. This bluff will probably work better if Flynn can’t see his pale, gaunt face. “Just a blood sugar crash.”

“Mm. That’s not what it sounded like.”

“...What did Raven tell you?”

“You got home looking like death warmed over, immediately vomited, and directly answered questions about your state of emotional well-being.”

Yuri winces. Nobody is better equipped than Flynn to know what a red flag that last one is.

“He also said I should be gentle with you because you’ve barely slept in two days.”

“He really is a snitch.”

“If it makes you feel any better, it was news to Karol.”

Yuri sighs. Flynn slides one hand up his back to start stroking his hair again, like he had in the forest. Yuri has to admit it’s a lot nicer when they’re not both drenched in blood. “And I hardly need Raven to tell me that something is wrong when you’re actually letting other people take care of you.”

“You should worry about yourself right now, not me.”

“I’m well-equipped to worry about both of us at once.”

“You almost died, Flynn,” Yuri says, and he feels sick again just saying it. “Don’t—“

“Can you shut up and let me care about what happens to the love of my life for five minutes?”

Yuri’s jaw snaps shut. He can feel his face flare red-hot. Flynn huffs out a little laugh, snuggling in close. The hand on Yuri’s lower back starts rubbing in slow circles.

“You have bad taste and you make no sense,” Yuri says, eventually.

“Leaving your unforgivably poor self-esteem aside for the moment, how do I not make sense?”

“How can I be the—“ Yuri grits his teeth and soldiers on. “—The ‘love of your life’ when we aren’t even dating?”

“I love you,” Flynn says, with a brisk, matter-of-fact sincerity that makes Yuri want to roll over and smother himself with a pillow. “And I have my whole life, and I always will. It hasn’t got anything to do with whether we’re in a romantic relationship.”

“You’re bonkers.”

“I’d be offended, but recent events suggest you don’t dislike bonkers.” Yuri stills. Flynn snorts. “Your first impulse to distract me was to kiss me, and it _wasn’t_ because you knew I was in love with you? Come on. I’m not stupid.”

“...I panicked.”

“I know. Hell if it didn’t work, though.”

“It didn’t work,” Yuri says, around a lump in his throat. “For spirits’ sake, I was there. I heard you yell. It didn’t work.”

“You were pulling a knife out of me. Of course I yelled.”

“But—“

“But it was extremely motivating to know that if I lived, I might get to kiss you more.”

Yuri kicks him.

“Ow!”

“What kind of stupid reason to live is that?!”

“Well of course I wanted to live for other reasons, but they were a little abstract when I was already bleeding out on the ground miles from help!”

“Shut up!” Yuri kicks him again. Like the first one, it’s weak and half-hearted, but Flynn seems to get the intended message. “I can’t believe you. You know how to cast guardian field yourself!”

“Are you yelling at me for not pulling the knife out myself?!”

“I’m yelling at you for giving up so fast!” Yuri’s face still feels hot with mortification, but now it’s a flush of anger, too. How dare Flynn act like the affections of messy, criminal, fuck-up Yuri Lowell are a more compelling reward than continuing to live his own life? He knows Flynn was probably just trying lighthearted humor out on the situation, but _fuck_. “I’m yelling at you for making me ignore your stupid, bad wishes! You tried to tell me not to save you, you dipshit!”

“Yuri—“

“It wasn’t worth the fucking effort to try to live when it was just living for me, as your friend?” Yuri’s voice breaks. Shit. “It wasn’t worth the effort to try to live for Estelle, and the Flynn Brigade, and Brave Vesperia? Wasn’t worth it for Repede?”

“I didn’t think it was going to work!” In a flash, Yuri finds himself wrestled back from Flynn’s body, so that they’re face-to-face. Flynn’s eyes are wide and frantic. One hand cups Yuri’s face; Yuri is horrified to realize that his cheeks are wet with tears again. “I’m sorry! I thought there wasn’t a chance, and maybe it would be less frightening to just leave the knife there and let it happen!”

“It wasn’t less frightening for me,” Yuri says, thickly. He knows it’s still selfish as he says it. All of this is selfish. Who is he to tell Flynn how to feel about his near-death experience? “To just—just sit there and wait for you to die without even trying to stop it.”

Flynn’s expression softens a little. His other hand slides up to cup Yuri’s other cheek. “I know.”

“And I don’t—want to think that if I’d tried to distract you any other way, maybe now you wouldn’t be—“ Yuri squeezes his eyes closed. Gods. He needs to stop crying.

“Shh,” Flynn mumbles. His forehead touches Yuri’s. “Shh. It didn’t happen. Don’t think about the what-ifs.”

“I have to.”

“No, you don’t.”

“But if there’s a next time—“

“If there’s a next time, I’ll know I should never doubt my brave, stubborn Yuri’s ability to pull a miracle out of nowhere.”

“What if next time—“

“No. Shh.”

Flynn kisses his cheek, gentle and chaste. Yuri hears his own breath hiccup, and reaches up to cling to the front of Flynn’s shirt. Flynn pecks the next kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I’m sorry I asked you not to try,” Flynn whispers. “Shh. Don’t cry, Yuri. We’re going to be okay. It all worked out. Don’t cry, please.”

“I can’t stop,” Yuri says, miserably. “I’m trying.”

Flynn makes a soft, sympathetic sound. He gathers Yuri against himself and let him hide his face against Flynn’s neck again. They lay there for a long, quiet set of minutes, spoiled by Yuri’s wet sniffling and Flynn’s occasional soothing hushes. Flynn pets his back, his hair, his shoulders. He only stops to tug gently on a lock of Yuri’s hair to get his attention.

“We should both get something to eat.”

“You go,” Yuri says. His voice is still thick with tears. “I’m—I’ll be fine.”

“No,” Flynn says, firmly. “You need to drink some water, at absolute minimum.”

“I’m not going out there like this,” Yuri snaps, even though he knows it’s a cowardly and pitiful reason to deprive himself. What if Karol sees him? What if Patty does? It won’t kill him to hide in here a bit longer. He already had that soup earlier, never mind how long ago that was. Flynn sighs.

“Sweetheart...”

Yuri’s face flushes hot again. “No. I’m vetoing that. You cannot.”

“I can, though,” Flynn says, “And if you don’t come with me, I will.”

“That’s underhanded of you, Commandant.”

“And what will you do about it?” Flynn tugs on that same lock of his hair again. “My love?"

“Good grief.” Yuri didn’t know his face could turn this red. “Please don’t.”

“Then please come get a snack.” Flynn’s fingers in his hair transition into a caress. Yuri shivers a little when they brush his neck. “You don’t have to talk to anyone. We’ll just go into the kitchen, get some food and fill your canteen, and come right back.”

“I will have to talk,” Yuri says, resignedly. With the state he came back in? The guild is going to want at least a word or two out of him, to promise he’s slowly stabilizing. He has no idea what dark magic Raven used to keep them at bay between Yuri’s last foray into the kitchen and now. He dislodges himself from Flynn’s embrace to roll onto his back, scrubbing his face with both hands. The bed shifts under him as Flynn props himself on one elbow. “Flynn?”

“Yes?”

Muffled into his hands, Yuri says, hopelessly, “You were just bullying me with the pet names, right? You’re not actually into that?”

A beat of silence.

“Oh, no.”

“I’m mostly into how embarrassed they made you,” Flynn admits.

“You’re _mean_.”

“I was just trying it out on a whim. It did feel pretty weird to say.”

“So no more?”

“Hmm.” Yuri peeks out from behind his hands. Flynn smirks down at him, chin propped on his hand. It’s a weirdly soft smirk. Yuri didn’t know smirks could look like that. “I don’t know. I do like how flustered you are right now.”

“Be nice to me,” Yuri grumbles. “It’s been a long day.”

“You’re right,” Flynn says. “I should wait a few days and see how you respond on an even keel. There’s no guarantee it will usually be this much fun.”

“Mean,” Yuri repeats.

“I’m drunk on power,” Flynn says. He bends down to kiss Yuri on the forehead. Yuri can’t help closing his eyes to savor it. “As always, it’s up to you to put me in my place.”

“Try some self-restraint.”

“I’ve been doing that for years, and it turns out you would have been receptive to kissing me for at least part of that time.”

_Probably most of it, if not longer,_ Yuri thinks, but miraculously manages not to say out loud. The alarm bells in his head are blaring, warning him that he’s half a second away from Flynn asking about the time frame anyway. He pushes himself upright, fighting through a pulse of dizziness, to crawl over Flynn and off the bed.

“I’ll go get food. You stay here.”

“What? No, I—“

“You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I can walk to the kitchen, at least.”

“You could, but you don’t have to. Any special requests?”

“Get something for yourself,” Flynn says. “ _Food_. Not just water.”

Yuri clucks his tongue in irritation. “Any special requests for the food you want for _yourself?_ ”

“Lady Estellise should be here. She insisted she would come up with a menu for me.”

Oh, no. Yuri definitely won’t escape this without a conversation and a half if Estelle is here. “Alright. Fine. I’ll be right back.”

“Yuri—“ Flynn catches his hand before Yuri can turn and leave the room. When Yuri pauses, Flynn brings the hand to his mouth and presses a tender kiss to his palm. Yuri can feel all the blood in his body rush to his face, coloring him scarlet. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Cool,” Yuri says, his voice cracking humiliatingly, and flees the room before Flynn can do anything else mushy. At least getting bullied with endearments bought him a little time to stop crying.

“He lives,” Judy says, when he appears in the kitchen. Estelle, standing at the counter, lights up.

“Yuri!”

“Hey.”

She launches herself toward him; Yuri braces himself, but she stops before impact, wrapping him in a gentle, barely-there hug.

“I’m okay, Estelle, really.”

“No, you aren’t. Raven said—“

“Stop ratting me out!”

“I just wish people would stop ratting me out for ratting you out,” Raven says. “Whatever happened to witness protection?”

“Eat! Eat, eat. We’ve got soup—I have some cheese and crackers here, I was going to put some together for Flynn, but there’s plenty for both of you—Rita put together some veggies and dip—“ Yuri looks around, but Rita is nowhere in sight. “Oh, she’s back with the Knights, Flynn asked her to make sure there was due process in his absence.”

“Of course he did.”

“Repede went with her. And Karol boiled some eggs before he went back out with the guild rookies.”

“I just need water for me and whatever you were going to give Flynn.”

Estelle opens her mouth to protest. Judy pats her on the shoulder. “I’ll do the soup, you make the snack platter. Just give him enough for two.”

“Please don’t,” Yuri says, mostly resigned to his fate. “Flynn will actually make me eat it. I don’t need—“

“Feed him,” Raven says.

“Yeah, no,” Judy says.

“Yuri, really, how are you feeling?”

Yuri sighs, through gritted teeth, and tries to summon up whatever part of himself managed to be straightforward with Raven. The team is nosy because they care. They just want him and Flynn to be okay.

“...I’ve been better. I just need a little more time to recover.”

Estelle relaxes a little, satisfied to get some measure of honesty. She nods as she putters around the kitchen. “And Flynn seems to be doing alright?”

“A little pale and shaky, but a lot better than I was afraid he would be at this point.”

“Good.” Estelle shuffles a few things onto a tray. Judy plunks down two bowls of her soup. “Here! And I _will_ come by later to make sure you actually ate all of it. And you know Flynn will tell on you if you have him eat yours.”

“Flynn won’t eat mine in the first place,” Yuri says.

“Good! Now go rest some more. Chop chop!”

Yuri finds himself shooed back out of the kitchen, now laden down with the tray. He kicks at the door gently to knock, then opens it with his foot. “Room service is here.”

“Five-star service,” Flynn says. He sits up against the headboard and the pillows. “Maybe I should get grievously wounded more often.”

“Don’t you dare ever do that again,” Yuri says, which is absolutely useless to the point of being nonsense. He drops the tray onto his bedside table with a little more force than necessary. The soup sloshes dangerously. Flynn covers his mouth with one hand, trying to conceal his laughter with a cough. “I’m serious.”

Flynn clears his throat after an odd hiccuping sound. “I know you are. I also know from the look on your face that you know I can’t promise that.”

“You could lie to make me feel better,” Yuri says, sourly. Flynn catches him by the arm and drags him closer. “What are—what are you doing?”

“Cuddling my poor, nervous sweetheart,” Flynn says, and saves himself from Yuri’s opinion on that combination of concepts and endearments by trying to pull Yuri into his lap. Yuri scrambles to plant his limbs against the mattress, in safe spots that put no pressure on Flynn’s body.

“Stop that. You’re wounded.”

“I’m healed. The recovery is for blood loss at this point.”

“You could still lose more blood if we reopen—“

“We won’t. Come here, stop wriggling.”

“At least let me stay to the other side!”

“Alright, fine.” Flynn curves his hands over Yuri’s hips, whose final placement is astride one of Flynn’s thighs on the un-stabbed side of his body. “You can be such a worrywart.”

“You got _stabbed!_ ”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Flynn says, dryly.

“Oh, are we getting snippy now? Because I’m pretty sure if I got stabbed, you would—“ Flynn seems to legitimately ponder that hypothetical for a moment, because after a beat his grip on Yuri’s body tightens painfully. “—Ow, Flynn.”

“Sorry,” Flynn mumbles. He loosens his grip and smoothes his palms over Yuri’s flanks. Yuri has to stop himself from shivering with the novel contact. “No getting stabbed.”

Saccharine-sweet, Yuri says, “Well, you know I can’t promise that.”

Flynn laughs, tiredly. “You could lie to make me feel better.”

“So we understand each other.”

“Unfortunately.” Flynn pets at him some more, making Yuri fidget, before he says, quietly, “I’ll do my best. I can promise that much. I’ll always do my best to come back to you safe.”

“I’ll take it,” Yuri says, since it’s probably the best he’s going to get.

“Now you?”

“...Motivate me.”

“What?”

“You made that big deal about motivating factors earlier,” Yuri says, even as he finds himself flushing red again. Is he miscalculating this move? Too late to back out now. “Well, I don’t get it. Motivate me.”

Flynn stares at him for a second. Right when Yuri starts to seriously consider bailing, Flynn grabs him by the waist and rolls them both down into the sheets, Yuri on his back with Flynn braced over him.

“Hey!” Yuri yelps. “You aren’t supposed to be exerting—“

“Shut up,” Flynn says, and kisses him firmly on the mouth. Yuri scrambles to get a hold of—something, anything, and ends up with fists clenched in the front of Flynn’s shirt again. Against Yuri lips, Flynn adds, “You’re such a little shit sometimes.”

“That’s— _mmph—_ “ Yuri shifts his grip to Flynn’s face as the force of Flynn’s kisses pushes him into the pillows. “N-not a very _mmm_ —motivating thing to say.”

“I’ll give you some motivation,” Flynn mutters. He grabs Yuri by the chin and kisses him long and hard. When Yuri has to shove him back to gasp for breath, he says, “Let me court you.”

“Huh?” Yuri pants. Flynn rubs their noses together in a butterfly kiss, still holding him by the chin.

“I want to date. Is that motivating enough for you? Can you promise to try to come home to your boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Yuri says, weakly, robbed of breath for humorous retorts. “I can try.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise. I’ll always try to come home to you.”

“Come home safe?”

“That’s pushing it.”

“Okay, then how’s this? If you get stabbed I’m going to call you pet names in front of your guild for as long as it takes Lady Estellise to give you a clean bill of health.”

“No fair,” Yuri mutters. “I can’t pull the same shit on you. It would backfire.”

“I’d pay real gald to see you try,” Flynn says. He presses a light kiss to the tip of Yuri’s nose. Yuri scrunches his nose.

“I liked the other motivation better.”

“You can have both,” Flynn says, generously, and proceeds to demonstrate exactly that.

They do stop to eat the food. Eventually.


End file.
